


It's a Lovely Day

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackouts, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, The Porn Is the Plot, Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms, there is always fluff in my smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: When a thunderstorm knocks out power in the Haus, Bitty somehow finds himself kneeling in front of a wet, naked Jack Zimmermann. In the dark.That's it, that's the fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the thing. I have to defend my dissertation in a month and a half. I am not supposed to be writing much fic this summer, definitely nothing longer than a couple thousand words.
> 
> Last week, I asked for ficlet ( _ficlet_ ) prompts on Tumblr, and got "Zimbits during a really bad thunderstorm?" The following conversation ensued:
> 
>  **Me:** Aw, could do cuddling in Providence during a storm, maybe based on that one drawing... Or maybe driving somewhere and having to pull over... Or an AU where one of them is caught out with a flat tire or something during a storm and the other stops to help...  
>  **My brain** : Hey, you know what I've always wondered?  
>  **Me:** ...  
>  **Me:** No.  
>  **My brain:** What if Jack and Bitty getting together had been more like the setup to a bad porno?  
>  **Me:** ...  
>  **Me:** Okay, fine.
> 
> And then it just kept fucking _going_ and now it's over 8k with a bonus scene.
> 
> Point being, if you see me writing fic before the end of August, smack my knuckles with a ruler or something.

"Oh, crud."

Eric sighs heavily as his laptop informs him that it's at 5% battery. Once again, they got home from a roadie and he forgot to plug in its charger. And once again, when he sat down to work on his essay, rather than get up and dig it out of his duffle bag immediately he'd convinced himself that he'd do it the next time he got up from his desk. And once again, by the time that happened he'd forgotten all about it.

A flash of lightning tears through the darkness outside his window as he stands up, followed almost immediately by a thunderclap loud enough to make him jump.

"Well, that one was just about on top of us, wasn't it?" he mumbles to Señor Bun as he roots around in his bag.

He's just returned triumphantly to his desk, charger in tow, and gotten the computer plugged in when there's an even louder crash. His lamp flickers, then goes out.

Maybe it's something little; surely it'll be right back up. He breathes deeply and counts to ten. The lights are still out. He glances out the window—no lights all down the street and as far onto campus as he can see. 

"Noooooooooo," he moans as he frantically saves his work. It's down to 4% and dropping. "Shit shit shit shit shit."

He slams the laptop closed as soon as everything's saved, growling in frustration.

Well, he's clearly not getting any work done at the moment. Betsy is gas, but she's all but given up the ghost; it's been a week since he got her to stay on long enough to preheat to 350. So he's not likely to get any baking done, either.

He starts to head out into the hall to see who else is home when a crash from Jack and Shitty's bathroom stops him in his tracks. Before he can even call out, there's a short yelp followed by a string of French swearing.

His eyes aren't quite adjusted to the dark, but it's not like he really needs them to take two steps across the hall.

"Jack?" He knocks, then sticks his head in the slightly-ajar door. "You ok?"

"No." Jack's voice is strangled, but he doesn't sound _badly_ hurt. "Can you bring me a flashlight?"

"Sure, gimme one sec."

His eyes halfway to functional, Eric ducks back into his room and grabs his phone from his nightstand where it was thankfully almost done charging before the power went out.

He's back in Jack's room only seconds after leaving it, the phone's flashlight illuminating the floor ahead of him.

"Don't come in!" Jack warns as Eric approaches the bathroom door. "I knocked the glass off the sink. Can you just shine the light in here so I can see where the glass is to pick it up?"

"No problem."

The floor in front of the sink sparkles in the beam of light, glass everywhere. Jack is sitting on the toilet, holding his foot. Even in the dim light, Eric can see the blood dripping down.

"Oh no!" He shines the light directly in Jack's eyes, which has the intended effect of preventing him from trying to stand as he shields them. "Don't you dare move. I'll go grab the broom and the first aid kit. And you had better be right there on that toilet when I get back, Mr. Zimmermann."

Jack sighs. “Fine, just get that out of my eyes, Bittle.”

As Eric moves the flashlight away, he tries very hard not to notice the fact that Jack’s hair is wet and he appears to be wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Luckily, there’s a broom and dustpan in the upstairs hall closet, and a first aid kit in the not-Jack-and-Shitty bathroom, so it doesn’t take Eric long to gather up the supplies he needs. He doesn’t hear any movement above or below him as he does, so he thinks he and Jack must be the only two in the Haus.

“Okay,” he says when he gets back to the door of Jack’s bathroom. “You hold the light—“ he passes the phone across the sink, and Jack reaches out to grab it. “—and I’ll get this mess swept up, then we’ll take care of your foot.”

“I should be cleaning up my own mess,” Jack grumbles, but he must know it’s not worth the fight because he holds the light and doesn’t try to get off the toilet.

Eric just rolls his eyes as he starts to sweep. “Don’t be ridiculous. This’ll take me all of thirty seconds. You try doing it with that cut on your foot, though, and you’re liable to slip and smack your head on the sink or twist your ankle or who knows what.”

Jack sighs, but doesn’t argue.

“Is anyone else home?” He asks instead.

“Don’t sound like it,” Eric says as he pushes glass into the dustpan. “I was working on my essay, but my laptop was dying just as the power went out. Of course. So lucky you, I have nothing better to do but bandage up bleeding feet.”

He grins up at Jack from where he’s squatting by the dustpan. Jack doesn’t quite smile back, but the corner of his mouth twitches, and Eric counts that as a win. Also a win: he doesn’t faint dead away when a wet lock of Jack’s hair falls down over his forehead, causing a bead of water to roll down his face. Eric’s eyes snap back down to the glass he’s dumping into the trash can.

He gives the floor one more good pass with the broom, finding a few more shards to throw away, then sets the broom and dustpan aside.

“Okay, now let’s look at that foot.”

“I can deal with it,” Jack grumps, but Eric just gives him an unimpressed look.

“The cut is on the bottom of your foot,” he points out. “I’ve got a much better view. You just keep that light on it.”

Again, Jack sighs, but doesn’t protest.

Eric squats down, one hand on the sink for balance. He reaches out and tilts Jack’s foot toward him, Jack illuminating it with the phone.

Jack’s skin is warm and wet, a little slippery. Eric can see the water droplets caught in Jack’s leg hair from this close. He swallows, willing himself to keep his eyes on the bleeding cut and not let them travel any farther up Jack’s leg. He really doesn’t need to know exactly how tightly that towel is wrapped around Jack’s waist.

He pulls an antiseptic wipe out of the first aid kit and wipes the blood away.

“Doesn’t look like there’s any glass in the cut or anything,” he reports, eyes trained on his work. “Let’s just get you bandaged up.”

“Thanks, Bittle,” Jack murmurs, and Eric’s eyes flick up reflexively to Jack’s at hearing his name. Jack is leaning in a little, as if he’d been trying to watch the progress on the sole of is foot, but now he’s looking at Eric. Eric is suddenly very aware of how steamy it seems in the bathroom, even after having the door open plenty long enough to air it out from Jack’s shower.

“Not a problem,” he manages, then somehow tears his eyes away from Jack’s to dig through the first aid kit.

He pulls out an appropriately-sized bandage.

“Hm, we better dry off your foot so this sticks,” he mutters, looking around the dark bathroom for another towel.

Jack, of course, just tugs on the one around his waist until he can use it to wipe off his foot. Eric thanks his lucky stars that the motion doesn’t pull the towel all the way off—only pulls it out from where it’s tucked into itself, so that it’s really just vaguely draped around him now. If he doesn’t tuck it back in before he stands, it will fall right off.

At that thought, Eric once again averts his eyes, focusing on the task at hand. The sole of Jack’s foot dry, he presses a bandage over the cut. Jack leans over a bit to look at it.

“There you go,” Eric says, giving Jack’s foot a little pat. “Not quite good as new, but it’ll be fine in a day or two.”

“Thanks,” Jack says again.

There’s a bit of shuffling as Eric throws away the wrapper from the bandage, Jack turns off the flashlight from the phone, and they both start to shift to get up. Jack lowers his bandaged foot to the floor, Eric slips a little on the wet tile, mindlessly grabs Jack’s knee to steady himself, then—

He happens to look up at Jack just as several flashes of lightning illuminate the bathroom through Jack’s bedroom window.

Eric is kneeling. In front of a nearly-naked Jack. In between Jack’s legs, a hand on each of Jack’s knees. There’s nothing about their positions that isn’t ridiculously suggestive, and they both freeze, eyes locked in the fluttering light.

Eric would be embarrassed at the way his mouth is hanging a little bit open, but Jack’s is, too. He’s barely even thinking about what else he could be doing in this position, because his brain seems to have frozen along with the rest of him. All he’s aware of besides Jack’s eyes, as wide as his own, is the feel of Jack’s skin and hair under his hands, hot and damp.

When the series of lighting flashes ends, Eric comes to his senses. Graduation is barely three weeks away, and here he is doing his best to make things as uncomfortable as possible between himself and Jack. He's probably just ruined _months_ of work hiding his feelings, just when he most wants to be able to enjoy their last few weeks together.

He can already feel his cheeks burning, and he’s about to jump away, pretend this awkward and strange moment never happened, when something even stranger happens.

Before he can jerk his hands away from Jack’s knees, they’re suddenly held in place by the weight of… Jack’s hands.

Eric inhales sharply, a soft sound under the rolling thunder but loud enough in the tiny bathroom, and freezes again. He can’t bring himself to look up at Jack, so he keeps his eyes on his right hand, trapped under Jack’s left. He can barely make any of that out in the post-lightning blackness, but he stares where he knows it is. He should pull his hands away. He knows Jack would let him. But the dark provides just enough of a refuge to make him brave, or maybe this whole thing feels just unreal enough to make him stupid. So he doesn’t try to move at all.

Even more stupid, he lets all those scenarios his brain wasn't quite capable of imagining a minute ago come swarming in.

After a few seconds, Eric realizes that the only thing he can hear is Jack’s breathing, and that it’s as heavy and harsh as his own. He knows why he’s breathing like this. Why is Jack?

He slowly raises his head, looking in the general direction of Jack’s face since his eyes aren’t quite readjusted to the dark enough to make out more than the vaguest hint of Jack’s features.

He doesn’t know where Jack is looking, but as he searches the dark for a pair of eyes he feels Jack’s thumbs start to move, a gentle caress across Eric’s skin. When his own thumbs start rubbing small circles on Jack’s legs in answer, it’s less because of any conscious intention and more base instinct, one body reacting to another in their own language.

He feels more than sees Jack lean toward him, and when another lightning bolt illuminates the room their faces are inches apart. He finds Jack’s eyes in the brief light, but Jack’s eyes are trained on his mouth. As the light fades again, Jack starts to tip forward just a little more, and Eric surges up to meet him halfway.

Given how dark it is, it’s a miracle they manage an actual kiss and not just slamming their faces into each other. Jack’s lips are warm and soft and surprisingly dry given how wet he still seems to be everywhere else.

Eric lets his brain shut off before it overthinks itself to death. Right now he just wants to savor whatever strange blackout-created pocket of alternate reality this bathroom has fallen into tonight. Jack shifts so their heads are at a better angle, and Eric lets his lips part, immediately feeling Jack’s tongue delicately brush his.

As the kiss deepens, he tightens his grip on Jack’s knees. Jack’s hands don’t tighten on his, though; instead, they slide up his arms, coming to rest on his biceps like Jack needs to be sure he’s held in place. He presses into the kiss a little more, wanting to make it absolutely clear that he isn’t going anywhere.

They keep kissing, only occasionally bumping awkwardly in the dark. There's a frantic edge to it, like each is afraid the other will pull away. Eric's entire awareness narrows to a handful of points of contact: tongues sliding against each other, hands holding arms, fingers gripping knees.

Eric hasn’t kissed many guys at all, and he’s never kissed anyone like this. No one’s ever kissed _him_ like this, like they’ve been suffocating and he’s air. He wasn’t sure he would ever feel this wanted in his life; that it’s Jack that’s doing the wanting is almost incomprehensible.

Finally, their kisses slow, and during the next flash of lightning they manage to pull apart just enough to look at each other. Eric can only assume that he looks at least as stunned as Jack.

“Bits,” Jack murmurs as the light fades. When he hears the nickname, Eric realizes that something big is shifting between them. “Do you—do you want this?”

“Yeah,” Eric replies. He can barely get his voice above a whisper. “Are you sure _you_ want this, Jack?” That’s the unbelievable part, after all.

“God, yes,” Jack says, and Eric is taken aback at the longing in those two words. Where did this come from, where has it been hiding—and most importantly, where will it go when the lights come back on?

Then Jack’s hands are on his face, in his hair, pulling him back in for another kiss. He lets his hands slide up Jack’s legs, from his knees up his thighs until they’re as far up as he dares. His thumbs are stroking Jack’s inner thighs now, not quite high enough to be indecent but high enough to pull a delicious little sound out of Jack’s throat.

Jack’s mouth leaves his, but only so that it can move further down, sucking wet kisses down the side of Eric’s throat, making him moan as his head falls back. He finally pries one hand loose from Jack’s leg so he can tangle it in Jack’s hair, almost startled to find it still quite wet.

“This can’t be good for your knees,” Jack says into Eric’s skin.

“Well,” Eric pants, “you can’t possibly be comfortable all bent over like this.”

Jack snorts and brings his face up next to Eric’s. His breath is warm against Eric's lips.

“You think there might be a better place for this than a tiny, pitch black bathroom?”

Eric may not be able see a damn thing, but he can hear the smirk in Jack’s voice.

"Wait, you mean there's a better place to make out than the bathroom?" Eric raises an eyebrow, despite the fact that Jack can't see him. "Someone better tell people at the next kegster, they always seem to think this is the best plan."

Jack laughs, and a thrill shoots through Eric's stomach. "Not a chance. Random kegster guests are not allowed in my bed."

"Are you saying that I am allowed in your bed, Mr. Zimmermann?" Eric asks slowly, breathless.

"Bittle." Jack leans in, his voice quiet against Eric's ear. "I'm saying that I want you in my bed as soon as possible."

Eric turns his head just enough to catch Jack's mouth. As they kiss, something settles in his gut. This isn't some strange misunderstanding. Jack has said it out loud, as plain as he can, twice now: he wants Eric. Eric has no earthly idea how or when that happened, but those are details they can discuss later.

"Guess we better get a move on," Eric murmurs against Jack's mouth, then pulls back to stand up.

The next flash of lightning finds him still between Jack's knees, but looking down at Jack this time. Jack is gazing up at him, and even in the dim light there's no mistaking the raw hunger in his eyes. It sends a shiver down Eric's spine.

"I feel a little overdressed," he says, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. He's not entirely sure what he should do about this problem, what Jack expects or what he's allowed.

"Oh." Jack looks down at his towel, dragging Eric's gaze down as well. It's not fully tented but here's clearly a lump there, mirroring Eric's own half-hard state. Lord, if he had any doubts about Jack's feelings...

"I can, um, put on some sweatpants," Jack says, a little sheepish. "Put us on slightly more even footing, eh?"

Eric resists the urge to make some bad joke about Jack's foot; one chirp might break the mood and he really doesn't want to find out yet if this is his only chance here.

"Does that mean I'll get to take 'em off you?" He asks instead, and somehow it actually sounds kind of seductive.

Jack must agree, judging by the way he nods slowly in response, his face turned up toward Eric like a plant seeking the sun. Eric reaches down and takes his hand.

"Well let's go, then." He tugs, and Jack stands, using his other hand to secure the towel. They stand there for a second, close enough for Eric to feel Jack's body heat through his own shirt, then Jack turns and heads for the bathroom door, their hands still linked.

"Can you get all the light switches?" Jack asks as he drops Eric's hand and heads toward his dresser. "So we're not blinded if the lights come back on?"

Eric flips the bathroom switch, then the one by Jack's bedroom door. Jack clearly has more brain function available than he does to think of a thing like that. But he does remember to close the bathroom door in case Shitty comes home, so that must count for something.

When he's finished with his tasks, he looks over at Jack. The room is marginally less dark than the bathroom, thanks to the moonlight filtering in the window. It's more than enough to see that Jack's sweatpants have just barely made it past the swell of his ass, and Eric isn't sure if he's more disappointed not to have looked a few seconds sooner or eager to get them back down.

Jack turns to him, and Eric hesitates. There's no stopping the litany of doubts that run through his head (Jack was just humoring him, Jack changed his mind, Jack didn't mean what Eric thought he'd meant…), but he can at least ignore them as Jack steps forward. Eric takes a breath, then meets him halfway.

Jack touches his face gently, brushes his thumb over Eric's lips. Eric can scarcely breathe, half-convinced still that he'll break the spell. But when Jack leans down, he pushes up on his toes and winds his arms around Jack's neck. The pressure of Jack's hand on the small of his back grounds him. This is real. It's real and it's not going to end just because Eric makes one tiny wrong move or says some slightly unsexy thing. Not if Jack wants it half as much as he does—and he's starting to believe that Jack does.

They make it the three steps across Jack's room without breaking their kiss. They pause in front of the bed, and Jack slides his hands up under Eric's shirt. Eric pulls away just enough to let Jack remove it, goosebumps spreading across his skin that have nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

As Jack presses him down onto the bed, he's reminded of a million fantasies that involve this very view. He eagerly pulls Jack along with him so their bare skin can finally slide together, and when their bodies meet Jack sighs along with him.

Jack is careful not to put all his weight on Eric—too careful. As they kiss again, Eric hikes one leg up around Jack's waist and pulls him down further, wanting every physical reminder possible that this is _real_ , that he's here and wanted. Jack's hand slides down to his ass where his leg is bent, and when Jack's fingers dig in there his own fingernails dig into Jack's shoulder. Jack breaks their kiss to bury his face in Eric's neck, moaning, and roll his hips.

Eric feels Jack's hard cock against his own, even through the layers of fabric, and swallows the sound it nearly draws out of him.

"No," Jack says, pressing kisses behind his ear. "Let me hear you. Please. We're alone."

Eric nods, not quite capable of words right at the moment. But when Jack rolls his hips again, he doesn't hold back his whimper.

They keep at it like that for several more minutes, hands and mouths exploring everything above the waist while their hips take care of everything below of their own accord. Jack smells like his body wash, the same kind he uses in the locker room, but there's no trace of the taste of soap on his skin. Eric is sure to taste several different spots (the hinge of his jaw, the hollow where his throat meets his collarbone, the broad expanse of his shoulders) just to make sure.

Eventually Jack pulls back just a little, his fingers trailing over Eric's skin from his pecs to his abs and back again.

"What do you want?" Jack asks.

"Um." Eric blinks up at him. It's still dark, luckily, so Jack can't see him blush. "Well, I, er. Haven't really done. Like. Any of it, so I'm not really sure…"

"Okay," Jack says, grinning, "but I assume you have some idea what the options are? Maybe even thought about them once or twice?"

Eric gives his shoulder a shove. "I cannot believe you got me half naked in your bed just to chirp me, Mr. Zimmermann. Rude does not begin to cover this situation!"

Jack snickers, rolling to one side to lay his head next to Eric's. Eric rolls with him so he can keep his leg around Jack. Judging by the way he slides his hand down to grab the back of Eric's thigh, Jack is just fine with this.

"No, I got you half naked in my bed in order to get you totally naked in my bed," Jack says, nudging Eric's nose with his own. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here."

"Shitty has trained you well, but believe me," Eric says, running a hand down Jack's back. "You can have me on any page you want."

He slips the hand under the waistband of Jack's sweatpants and is _thrilled_ to discover that Jack did not bother with underwear.

Jack opens his mouth to reply, then stops, a tiny smile playing on his lips as his head twitches slightly to one side. "Why are you grinning like that?"

Eric huffs out a short laugh, his smile only growing. "Just thinking that never in his wildest little gay dreams did fourteen-year-old me ever imagine he'd get to touch a butt this majestic."

Jack snorts, then nuzzles Eric's shoulder. "Glad you like it," he says as he starts to kiss and nip at Eric's throat again.

Eric lets out a low moan, tipping his head back. For some reason, the chirping interlude has bolstered his confidence; it was a reminder, maybe, that Jack is still Jack and he's still himself. That whatever else is happening, they're friends, and neither of them would risk ruining that if this weren't something he sincerely wanted.

He's emboldened enough that he barely hesitates before using what little leverage he has to push Jack onto his back—Jack must be eager to go, because it's easier than expected. Jack's head falls back onto the pillow, and he grins up at Eric. Eric straddles his hips, feet tucked neatly under Jack's thighs, forearms bracketing his head. Jack wastes no time in pulling him down, and this time Eric is the one who attacks Jack's throat.

Jack moans, his back arching beneath Eric. It's Eric's turn to roll his hips slowly, and he can feel a groan reverberate through Jack's chest. Then Jack's hands are on his ass, urging him to do it again—but he has other plans.

He starts to move down Jack's body, trying to touch and taste every bit of skin as he goes. By the time he gets to the waistband of Jack's sweats, Jack's fingers are carding through his hair in a way that would be very relaxing, under other circumstances.

Eric sets one hand lightly on Jack's dick as it strains up, tenting the fabric. He closes his eyes for just a second, then opens them, and he's still here. He's still in Jack's bed, between Jack's legs, with his hand on Jack's dick and Jack's hand in his hair. Dear lord.

He closes his hand a little and slides it up the length, feeling the ridge of the head even under the sweatpants. Jack whines as he does it, and the sound is enough to keep up Eric's confidence as he leans forward and nuzzles and mouths at Jack's covered dick. He probably shouldn't go trying an actual blowjob just yet (maybe after he's had one himself, so he can at least try to copy), but it's hard to remember that when he wants it in his mouth this badly.

He hears a soft "fuck" from the head of the bed, and looks up to find Jack propped up on one elbow, staring down at him.

Jack swallows, tracing his fingers down the side of Eric's face. "You have no idea how good you look, do you?"

Eric blushes, which is _ridiculous_ ; he's playing with this boy's dick, he shouldn't be embarrassed if Jack thinks he looks good doing it. But it's dark, and Jack can't see the blush, so Eric ignores both it and the misplaced embarrassment.

"Do I still get to take these off you?" he asks instead. Jack nods and Eric sits up a little. He starts to slide the pants down, Jack moving as needed to help. It's a little awkward as they reach Jack's lower legs and he has to maneuver a little so Eric can pull them the rest of the way off, but that only lasts a few seconds.

Then, for the second time that night, Eric is kneeling between a naked Jack's knees, but without the towel between them.

He's seen Jack naked so many times, but never with his dick like this, full and erect and leaking. He runs a hand over the soft skin, relishing Jack's gasp. It is truly a sight to behold, not overly long but thick and… well… nice. Symmetric, smooth, straight—really, only one word comes to mind to describe it, and when Eric can no longer keep that word out of his mind, he can't help a giggle.

"Oh my god, Bittle, are you laughing at me?" There's laughter in Jack's voice, too, so Eric isn't too worried that he's actually offended.

"No, I'm laughing at myself," he admits. He covers his face with one hand and sighs. "I was just thinking that you have a… well. A very _pretty_ cock."

"Oh my god," Jack says again, laughing out loud this time, and covers his face with a pillow.

"Which is incredibly apropos, really," Eric continues, "because you are so damn pretty I can't even deal with it sometimes. So it just _figures_ that _that_ would be pretty, too."

Jack moves the pillow out of the way so he can glare at Eric, but the glare is halfhearted at best. Even in the dim light, Eric can see his lips twitching.

"Bittle, stop calling me pretty."

Eric laughs. "I will stop when you stop being so pretty!"

Jack kicks at him, although it's less a kick and more Jack's foot prodding his shoulder.

"Take your pants off," Jack says, sounding almost petulant. "It's not fair if you get to pass judgment on my dick and keep yours hidden."

Eric huffs, but maneuvers himself off the bed so he can get his pants off more easily.

"It's a _positive_ judgment! My lord, Jack, like having a pretty dick is a bad thing! It's so pretty I wanna stare at it, and touch it, and… do things to it."

"'Things,' eh?" Jack rolls onto his side to face Eric, his eyes trained on Eric's hand where it's unzipping his shorts.

"Things," Eric confirms, then pulls his shorts down. His own cock is still trapped under his briefs, though the tip sticks out a little.

Jack scoots forward, then reaches out to snag the waistband of Eric's underwear with two fingers and tug him a little closer. He runs his thumb over the slit of Eric's dick where it's just visible, and Eric gasps.

Suddenly, Jack sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and maneuvers Eric back between his knees. He grabs the waistband with both hands and looks up.

"Can I?"

Eric nods, and then Jack is sliding his underwear off of him. As the briefs drop from around his knees to the floor, Jack rests his forehead on the side of Eric's stomach and wraps his huge hand around Eric's dick. Which, admittedly, is not as big as Jack's, but neither is the rest of Eric. Really, it's reasonably proportioned with the rest of his body. It looks a lot smaller, though, with Jack's hand around it instead of Eric's. Once again, a blush spreads across his cheeks, but he barely has time to register it before Jack's hand starts moving and he loses track of any coherent thought.

"Oh," he gasps, "oh god, Jack." His head tips back and his eyes slip shut as he tries to focus on the rush of sensations: Jack's hand stroking him with a steady rhythm, Jack's mouth sucking a mark just above his hip bone, Jack's other hand cupping and kneading his ass, Jack's hair tangled in his fingers. Jack Zimmermann has taken over his entire body, and it's better than he'd ever imagined. He tries to catalog every feeling, every touch, in case this is the only chance he gets—but lord, he hopes it's not.

After a couple of minutes, though, it's not enough. Jack _hasn't_ taken over his entire body; he has huge swaths of skin that are _not touching Jack at all_ and that simply cannot stand.

He nudges Jack's shoulder until Jack raises his head. Then before he can chicken out, Eric climbs into Jack's lap, straddling him. Jack immediately wraps his arms around him, sliding his hands up and down Eric's back as they kiss.

And _this_. This is so much better. His entire torso is surrounded by Jack. His thighs are gripping Jack's hips. They're moving together, dicks sliding together, and Eric gasps a little as the heads catch on each other.

Eric's been horny, he's been _really really fucking horny_ , he's jerked off hundreds (if not thousands) of times since hitting puberty, he's done it while watching porn or while thinking about Jack, about situations very similar to this. Absolutely none of that begins to compare to the raging _want_ consuming him right now. He passed "horny" a good ten minutes ago. All rational centers of his brain have shut down, and only two things in the entire universe matter enough to make it to the level of conscious thought: 1) getting as close to Jack as possible, as much of their bare skin pressed together as they can manage, and 2) orgasms. His body is doing whatever it can to reach those goals.

He moves his head down, discovering that Jack's skin no longer tastes shower-fresh, but sweat-salty, and he can't get enough of it.

"Fuck," Jack pants as Eric lavishes his throat and shoulder with open-mouthed kisses, "oh god, oh fuck, _Bits_."

Then Jack's hand is squeezing into the nearly-nonexistent space between them. It takes him a second, and Eric has to stop humping him quite as enthusiastically, but he manages to get the hand wrapped around both of their dicks at once. Eric lets out a loud moan before cutting himself off, realizing belatedly that it's possible someone has come home while they've been distracted.

He leans his forehead on Jack's shoulder and looks down, putting a tiny bit of distance between their bodies so he can see. The sight of their cocks pressed together, disappearing and reappearing from within Jack's huge hand, is mesmerizing. He can't keep his hips from moving a little, counter to the movement of the hand, but he tries not to get too carried away because he really, really doesn't want to upset the rhythm Jack has settled into.

They're both panting and gasping, alternating between little broken-off noises and nonsensical words (some in French).

"I'm so close," Jack mutters after several minutes. Eric picks up his head from Jack's shoulder to see Jack's head is thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Good," Eric whispers. "I want to see you."

Jack's mouth drops open and his whole body twitches, and Eric looks down to see come painting both their stomachs. It's the hottest thing he's ever seen, and with one more small thrust it sends him over the edge, too. He lets out a whine as the first spurt of his come mixes with Jack's, watching Jack's hand as it keeps moving right through the mess, spreading it over both of them.

Their chests are heaving as Eric leans forward and rests his forehead on Jack's. He closes his eyes and tries to catch his breath, listening to Jack do the same. Soon his brain begins to come back online, which is actually kind of a shame because it is bound and determined to second-guess this whole thing.

Clearly, Jack enjoyed himself, but then, he did most of the work, so who knows how much Eric's presence even contributed. And what happens now? He knows that Jack won't be cruel; they've come too far in the past two years for him to expect that. Visions spin through his head of Jack gently nudging him to get up off his lap; Jack telling him quietly that he should get dressed while Jack goes to clean up; Jack fidgeting awkwardly with his own pants and saying he has work he needs to get done; Jack pretending nothing happened tomorrow morning.

His increasingly-distressing imaginings are cut off, however, when he is unceremoniously dumped from Jack's lap into Jack's bed. The impact is startling enough that he's laughing before he even fully registers what's happened.

Jack is standing over him, grinning.

"I'll be right back, I need to wash my hands."

Okay, well. He's in Jack's bed, that's better than standing up. And Jack said he'd be right back like he expects Eric to still be in his bed, not up getting dressed. Plus, Jack looked happy and not at all awkward. So far, things are going better than they could have.

He barely gets through this mental account before Jack is striding back across the room holding a wet washcloth.

"Hey, I can see you!" Eric exclaims, propping himself up on his elbows. "Electricity's back!" It's still dark, but there is clearly streetlight coming through the window in addition to the moonlight; otherwise, he probably wouldn't be able to tell that that object is a washcloth.

"Yeah, I noticed when we, ah." Jack starts to wipe Eric off. "Well, I was looking down between us and I could see better than I expected. Which was a nice surprise."

"Right," Eric says, flopping back down when Jack finishes. "I guess I was a little too distracted to notice."

Jack drops the washcloth on the floor and climbs over Eric, lying down between him and the wall and pulling him close. They kiss, and Eric feels like he could melt right into the bed. How the night can keep getting better _after_ their orgasms, he's not sure, but it is.

"Can you stay?" Jack murmurs. "Or do you need to go finish your essay now that you can?"

Yes, definitely getting better.

"I can do the essay later," he says.

"I—" Jack looks a little shy, which is… good lord. "I kind of meant all night."

Eric grins and kisses Jack again gently. "And tomorrow counts as later, silly."

Jack smiles, face half turned into his pillow. Then he surprises Eric by nuzzling into his shoulder and jostling them around until his head is on Eric's chest. Eric wraps one arm around him and plays with his nearly-dry hair with the other hand. Jack's fingers trace random shapes along his side.

He bites his lip and stares up at Jack's ceiling. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this with a conversation that might not go how he wants it to. And he knows he should just enjoy whatever he can get for however long he can have it, but his feelings are already trying to spiral out of control. He can't afford to let that happen if it's just going to get his heart broken.

"Jack," he says quietly after a few moments, "I, um—I need to know—I mean, it's fine either way, okay? I swear I mean that, whatever you want, I—I just need to know what you _do_ want. I need to know now, if this is just…" Physical? A hookup? Friends with benefits? Thankfully, he's saved from figuring out how to end his sentence.

"No," Jack says, tightening his grip on Eric. "Whatever you're about to say, the answer is no." He takes Eric's hand from his hair and kisses it. "I don't want this to be 'just' anything."

Eric swallows. "Me neither," he whispers into the top of Jack's head. He has no idea what that really means, if they're dating now or if they will be soon, if Jack wants this to keep going past graduation, if they can even tell any of their friends about it. But it's a start. It's worlds away from what he thought was possible two hours ago.

"I know it's not great timing," Jack continues after a few beats. "You're going home for the summer, and after that I'll be in Providence, and that's really not far away but I'll be out of town a lot and both of our schedules are crazy. And we have to be careful in public, because it's not like I can come out right now. I can't even tell my team yet—I mean, one reason I chose the Falconers is because they seem pretty accepting, but I don't know yet who I can trust. So I know that's all a mess and not the greatest start to a relationship so I understand if you don't want anything—"

"Jack." Eric knows nervous babbling when he hears it (even if for once it isn't out of his own mouth). "I'm not even out to my parents yet, it's not like I want my relationship with a man plastered all over Sports Illustrated. And Providence really isn't far. We've probably got a lot of talkin' ahead of us, but if you want to try and figure it out, then I do, too."

Jack looks up at him, his face open and earnest. "I really do, Bits."

"Me, too, honey." Eric kisses his forehead, and he lays his head back down.

They hold each other for a few minutes quietly, Eric marveling at what his life is suddenly becoming.

"Can I ask you," he finally says, "when did you—I mean, how long have you—uh—"

"How long have I been in love with you?" Jack guesses, sliding up to lay his head next to Eric's so they can see eye to eye.

Eric blinks at him.

"Is that what you are?" he asks softly.

Jack nods. "Yeah. I think so."

Eric opens his mouth, but he's too stunned to think of anything to say. After a moment, Jack starts to look nervous.

"I mean, if that's okay—"

"It's amazing," Eric blurts out, his voice finding him at last. "Oh, sweetheart." He reaches up and touches Jack's face. "It's incredible, is what it is, it's—" _a miracle_ , he almost says, but that might sound a little desperate. He kisses Jack instead, squeaking when Jack pulls him in tight.

He pulls back just enough to see Jack's eyes clearly.

"I love you," he says, not even embarrassed at the tears stinging his eyes because damn it, his dreams are literally coming true, he's allowed. He says it again, just because he can.

"I love you, too, Bits," Jack says, and they lie there kissing and laughing for a while.

Eventually, Jack pulls a sheet over their tangled limbs. They definitely have a lot to talk about, a lot to figure out. But not tonight. They've reached a limit on deep emotional conversations for the day, so instead they chatter about nothing (okay, mostly Eric chatters about nothing, Jack cutting in to chirp him or to ask questions) and trade soft kisses until Eric drifts to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's basically the end of the story, but then I went and wrote a scene for the next morning, so I've stuck that in its own chapter. :)


	2. Chapter 2

When Eric wakes up, he's wrapped around a large, warm, solid body.

_Jack_.

He snuggles closer, smiling into Jack's shoulder.

Last night wasn't the best dream he's ever had. It was real, and it was wonderful. Part of him wonders if things will look different now in the morning light—but he's really not that worried. He trusts Jack; if Jack said he's in love with him and wants to be together, Eric believes him. He wouldn't say those things just because of the sex, or just because they were hidden away in the dark where no one could see them.

Eric's snuggling must have woken Jack up, because he grunts quietly and wraps his arms around Eric.

Eric hums and tips his face up toward Jack's. "Good morning."

"Hey." Jack smiles down at him softly, his hair a mess. Eric pushes himself up on one elbow and kisses him softly, lingering as Jack strokes his face.

"I love you," Eric whispers, and there's something even more thrilling about saying it now, when they can see each other clearly.

Jack's soft smile transforms into a beaming grin.

"I love you," he replies. "I want to wake up like this every day."

"I think we can arrange that," Eric says, "for the next couple weeks, at least." After that, they'll figure it out.

Jack's hands slide down to grip his ass, and he yelps as they pull him fully on top of Jack. Eric leans down so they can kiss, their legs slotted together, and he can feel Jack's hardness pressing into his thigh. That's all for him now.

Jack's fingers slide down along his crack, brushing over his hole, and thoughts of everything he wants to do in the next three weeks fill Eric's mind. He's lucky that Jack isn't likely to let him neglect his schoolwork in favor of sex, but at least he'll have something to replace baking…

They both register the sound of a turning doorknob just a second too late.

"Yo Jacky-boy, have you seen Bit—"

Eric can't bring himself to look, but he hears Shitty freeze. He closes his eyes and collapses onto Jack's shoulder.

"Uh, never mind. Found him."

" _Shitty_ ," Jack growls.

"Okay. Ho-lee shit. Okay. I'm just gonna—"

"Shitty! _Out!"_ Jack yells this time.

"I'm outing, I'm out—uh, bad choice of words. Or, y'know, incredibly and unfortunately appropriate. I'm going to leave the room now, and at some later point today I'm going to expect deets—"

"Shut up and leave, Shitty!" Eric yells, though his voice is muffled where his face is still pressed into Jack's shoulder and the pillow.

"Right."

Eric hears the bathroom door close, and finally picks his head up. Jack has a hand over his eyes.

"Oh my god," is all Eric can say, and then he's giggling.

"I can't believe I didn't lock that door," Jack says. He uncovers his eyes and smiles at Eric. "You know, I didn't actually think we'd be able to hide this from Shitty for three weeks. But I thought maybe one or both of us could, y'know—"

"Talk to him?" Eric supplies. "Tell him? At some point when we're dressed appropriately and not making out? Warn him not to come in when we're _not_ dressed appropriately?"

"So much for that," Jack says. "I'm pretty sure he has the good sense not to spread it around."

Suddenly, there's a knock at the bathroom door.

"Shitty, go away!" Jack yells.

"Hey, sorry," Shitty calls through the door, "the whole reason I came up here is 'cause Chowder's downstairs, and he was looking for Bitty to get some book from him for the food class. And luckily I was heading up to grab my bag anyhow, so I said I'd find him, but now what should I tell Chow?"

Eric groans. "The book's on my desk. It's the one with the old-looking pictures of cakes on the front. But tell him I'm not done with my essay yet, so if I could get it back tomorrow that would be nice."

"Okay. Uh, what should I tell anyone else who wants to come up and talk to you?"

Eric sighs and lays his head back down. "I dunno, Shitty. Just tell them I left already and you texted me about the book."

"What if they want to see the texts? Maybe I should really text you—"

"Why on _earth_ would anyone want to see the texts?" Jack asks incredulously.

"Yeah. Okay. Uh. Talk to you later."

"GO _AWAY_!" they shout simultaneously. They wait for a second, listening, but he seems to actually be leaving.

"Sorry," Jack mutters.

Eric laughs. "As if anything that boy does is at all your fault. If you'd locked the door, he just woulda banged on it until you helped him solve the mystery of my disappearance. At least he seems okay with, y'know. This. Surprised, but okay."

Jack shrugs. "It's Shitty, though. Of course he's okay with it."

"We should probably just be thankful he didn't start pouting about why I'm allowed naked cuddles when he's not."

That gets Jack laughing. Eric always loves making Jack laugh, but it's even more special now.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll complain about that soon." He turns to look at Eric, his eyes roaming over his face and down his chest. "The up side to him knowing is that now we can shower together. I mean, we still need to lock the door, because he has no qualms whatsoever about coming in to brush his teeth or pee or just, y'know, have a nice chat while I'm trying to shower."

Eric snorts, then he reaches up to play with Jack's hair. "Is that your way of suggesting we take a shower?"

"No, this is my way of suggesting we take a shower." He kisses Eric deeply, making him forget all about showers for a second. Then he kisses his way to Eric's ear as his hands roam over Eric's body. "Come shower with me," he says, voice low and inviting. " _Please_."

Eric hums, almost a moan, turning his face toward Jack's. "I think I like you begging."

He sort of can't believe he just said that, but when Jack ducks his head and starts nipping and licking at his throat, he forgets to feel shy about it.

"Please," Jack says again, his own voice nearly moaning now. He keeps biting at Eric's throat in between words as he continues, and Eric can't keep his eyes open. "Bitty, god, please let me jerk you off in the shower. I wanna watch you come while you're dripping wet. Please, _please_ let me."

Eric's burgeoning erection had died down with Shitty's interruption, but he's half hard again and when Jack snakes a hand between them to wrap it around him, he barely manages to control the volume of his moan.

"Jack Zimmermann, I am not going to survive you," he says. He opens his eyes and takes Jack by the shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed. "Ask me one more time," he says, his voice firmer than he'd expected.

He half-expects Jack to chirp him for it, or at least smirk while he says it, but Jack looks just as transfixed by Eric as Eric is by him.

"Please," he says, an edge of real desperation in his voice. "Please shower with me."

"Well, how can I say no to that?" Eric says, almost a whisper. He wants more, he wants… he's not quite sure, but this feels like the tip of some iceberg they should explore later.

For now, he pushes himself off of Jack and stands up, taking Jack's hands and pulling him out of bed, too.

"Let's get going, sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm, yes, things got just a _tiiiny bit_ D/s-y at the end. What can I say, I like Jack begging. Luckily, so does Bitty. I had to have very harsh words with this story to stop it there and not wind up with another full-blown 3.5K sex scene. I know, you're all relieved. Wouldn't _that_ be a slog to read.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Ella Fitzgerald's _[Isn't This a Lovely Day.](http://www.metrolyrics.com/isnt-this-a-lovely-day-lyrics-ella-fitzgerald.html)_
> 
> [My Tumblr.](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com)


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